Just Let Me Wake Up Already

Disclaimer: They tried, but I just couldn't accept ownership of HP. I also don't own the song lyrics/quotes I use throughout this fanfic.

A/N: A Dairy Queen Blizzard to: Evelyns Journey, irene0222, TheCresentMoonWriter, xXTwilight PrincessXx, Charming-Lynn, Web Walker, Nerys, MioneRocks, 00Jade, Sakura Takanouchi, Cashbutterfly, and Julia. Thanks for reviewing!

Keep several things in mind when you read this chapter. Firstly, according to a Discovery Channel special on dreams I watched the other day, if you become aware that you're dreaming while you're dreaming, you can control and change your dream. Secondly, just remember all the hints I've left in previous chapters about connections between memories and dreams. Don't read too much into them, but keep them in mind so this chapter doesn't seem too "out there." Enjoy!

This chapter is dedicated to my sister Sakura Takanouchi, for helping me with her fantastic ideas for this chapter.

I'd do anything
Just to hold you in my arms
To try to make you laugh
Cause somehow I can't put you in the past
I'd do anything
Just to fall asleep with you
Will you remember me?
Cause I know
I won't forget you

--"I'd do anything" by Simple Plan

Recap of Chapter Six:

Yawning again, she closed her eyes, curling her arms over her stomach as she breathed out regularly, slipping into sleep within the minute. Threads of dreams tugged at Hermione's mind, pulling her into a dreamlike world that only competed in strangeness with the world of memories Hermione was currently in.

Chapter Seven: Third Time's the Charm

Hermione lifted her head, groggily trying to focus her vision as the room swam before her eyes. It was dark, like always. She had no idea how long she had been there, it was like the same scenes had been replaying themselves over and over, imprinting their identical incongruity in her mind.

Am…Am I awake? She thought, blinking as she sat up. Her location was the same, the same dark room, devoid of any personal items or paraphernalia, plain enough to be a hotel room.

No. Damn, she thought, staggering around the room to turn on the lights. Her limbs always felt heavy when she woke, but this morning it felt worse. If it was even morning. Then where on Earth am I?

Oh, yes, that's right, she thought, the sudden stroke of inspiration hitting her like a lightning bolt. I…I'm dreaming.

That was the only plausible explanation for what was going on around her. Day after day, she had been subjected to one of the strangest chain of events she'd ever experienced in her life. Then, she would return here, go to sleep, and wake only to repeat the identical events over again.

Her mind was still foggy, but she tried to remember the events of the previous day, the dream blurring the edges so only a faint hint of déjà vu and familiarity remained. She remembered the strange windowless building she was in, the strange abundance of magical creatures and the strange event that culminated the night, some sort of ball, or dance, or…

Prom? What do they call it? She passed the small closet in the room, catching a small glimpse of the dress she'd worn for the past three nights. Three identical nights. Seeing the same things, hearing the same things, saying the same things.

It was odd; the whole room was filled with Muggle furniture. There was nothing magical about it, the typical lamps, bed, and even a boxy television and white telephone, labeled buttons on the cradle typical of a nondescript motel phone.

Yes…I'm dreaming. But why haven't I woken up yet? She thought with a slight tinge of worry.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Hermione looked up, curiosity evident in her sleep-deprived eyes. This is something new.

Her hand hovered over the phone for a moment before she picked it up on the third ring, lifting the heavy phone to her ear. "Hello?" She asked, wondering who could be calling her.

"Hello, this is Tom Riddle, with Customer Service. Are you currently happy with—"

As soon as Hermione heard the smooth, familiar voice, she tensed, fingers clenching around the curve of the phone. "Stay the hell out of my mind!" She screamed, slamming the phone back onto the cradle.

Her breathing hitched as she stared at the phone, half wanting to curse the object into nothingness, half wanting it to ring again so she could have some difference from the monotonous routine. The phone didn't ring last time.

It's not like I could curse it anyways, she thought with a huff. For some reason, I don't have my wand in this dream world. Come to think of it, no one she interacted with used one publicly either.

Her heart leaped when she remembered the one positive aspect of her nightly forced appearances at the ball that occurred in this strange world. It wasn't a masquerade—rather, she saw many familiar figures from her time at Hogwarts, mixed with unfamiliar faces she supposed her mind had conjured for her.

She remembered going to sleep—vaguely. Whenever she strained to remember more, it was like hitting a fuzzy invisible wall, blocking out most of the memories and leaving her with a strange, slightly unpleasant feeling, making her feel almost incomplete.

There were several things missing from her mind that she felt she should know. She remembered slightly that she always felt tired—maybe that was the reason she was sleeping so long—and something about being invisible.

It should almost be about time, she thought, remembering slightly how the events of the previous days had turned out. Three, two, one…

The sound of someone knocking on the door three times made Hermione smile. The whole thing was so predictable, so indistinguishable from the day before that Hermione thought for a moment that she had somehow been caught in some kind of time loop.

"Hermione!" the voice at the door cried. How Hermione's heart clenched when she first saw the face behind the voice.

With the first genuine smile of the day, Hermione raced to the hallway and flung open the door, enveloping the first person she saw in a huge hug. The redhead returned her hug, laughing at the muffled strangled cry in Hermione's throat. "Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny asked as Hermione moved on to the next person.

"Luna, I've missed you too!" Hermione cried, giving the surprised girl a hug. Parvati and Lavender received hugs as well, as Ginny whispered to Luna, "what's wrong with her?" Hermione was too happy to even care.

"I think it's the flibberjets," Luna said sensibly. "They charge your emotions, and make you excessively—"

"Hey, we'll be late for lunch!" Ginny said quickly, cutting her off. She didn't want to get Luna started about 'flibberbats' or whatever she was blabbering on about. The girls left Hermione's room, moving into the brightly lit massive hall of the promenade-styled interior of the building. Easily several hundred feet tall, multiple corridors linked the doors to rooms as the floors and staircases were filled with the moving masses.

"Come on! We promised ourselves a girl's lunch out before the ball tonight," Lavender giggled as they walked together, merging with the swirling masses of creatures and wizards alike. At first Hermione couldn't help but stare as a flock of pixies passed overhead, zooming upward to avoid a giant walking away from them.

The windowless hall was airy and expansive, with huge dark colored glass panels as the ceiling, blocking out all light while huge pendant lighting and chandeliers dropped down from support beams and steel arches over the walkways.

"So, are you excited about the dance?" Parvati asked Hermione. When first asked this question, it made her think back on the Yule Ball of her fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. While she had had fun, it had also been one of the only times she had let herself indulge in such frivolity. Her hair alone took hours.

Way too much to do on a regular basis, she thought with a slight frown. "Of course I'm excited," she told Parvati with a slight smile. The ball was worth it all, if only to spend a few much-needed moments with her friends.

"Here we are!" Ginny said happily as the four girls arrived at a small bistro café located in the middle of the promenade-like indoor street, tables visible from the walkway in a roped-off section. Ginny took charge, proceeding to tell the hostess their reservation. Soon, the five friends were seated in a large booth in one corner of the restaurant, happily chatting.

Hermione began to grow a little bit bored. It felt wonderful to see her friends again, but sitting through the same conversation for three days in a row? That was pure torture for Hermione's mind.

Hermione swirled her straw through her pumpkin juice as she tried to remember more about the world outside the dream. She knew this world wasn't real—it felt so different and strange, and she never heard Ginny or the others speak about their everyday lives here other than in preparation for the ball. No magic was mentioned; just gossip.

I remembered something about being invisible, she thought. Something about a pensieve…

Suddenly a twinge of pain shot through Hermione's chest, and she leaned over the table, coughing, her eyes closed tightly together in pain.

"Are you okay?" Lavender asked, scooting further down the booth away from Hermione to get away from the germs as Hermione continued to cough.

The pain subsided, and Hermione frantically tried to remember what it was she had been thinking about before the pain struck. But she couldn't remember, and again hit the fuzzy blocker that blurred the boundary between what she knew in this world, and the rest of her mind she was sure lay beyond the peculiar dome of this building.

"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione assured Lavender. She reached for a breadstick from the basket in the middle of the table, blissfully munching away.

Gosh yes, I missed food, she thought, closing her eyes as she chewed, releasing a contented sigh as she finished the breadstick. Luna remarked again about the obstinate nature of the flibberjet, but Hermione didn't care. She'd put up with an army of the little invisible nonexistent beasts to get more food. 

Surprisingly, she didn't feel hungry in the slightest, but she never felt full either, no matter how much she ate.

I guess it's all a part of the dream, she reasoned, happily grabbing a slice after their pizza was delivered to their table.

Tom Riddle stood alone in his Slytherin House dormitory, slightly annoyed. First that girl walks out on him during his Potions class, and then completely disappears! She hadn't shown herself around the Slytherin common room all day, and she wasn't in the library either. It's not like she has anything better to do, he thought with a frown.

The sky was already dark outside, and had been for some time. Tom suspiciously looked around the room again, half expecting the ghost to pop up somewhere, surprising him like she had been all day.

Scowling slightly, he pulled the small vial out of his robes. Hermione had been right, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. He slowly turned the small bottle of 'infinitas somnio' potion around, watching the light purple liquid slosh around softly inside. He figured he had better prepare himself in some way for the ghost's morning interruptions (as he referred to them in his mind) and the powerful sleeping draught provided the perfect opportunity.

Still…good dreams? Then why am I so hesitant to take this? He asked himself mentally as he slowly slid the cork out of the vial. Tom didn't normally dream—the nightmares had stopped years ago. Now when he did sleep it was a peaceful, quiet, nothing. Nothing…and Tom Riddle was nothing if not consistent.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to end this mental debate once and for all. He was nervous about taking a stupid potion? About what he would dream? That doesn't matter, he thought, tipping the vial back and downing the contents, letting the liquid slosh around in his mouth before swallowing. It really did taste good, with hints of peppermint and lemon.

There go the lemons again, he thought as his vision swam in front of his eyes as he quickly sat down on his bed, his head hitting the pillow seconds after the potion took effect and he fell asleep, the potion throwing his mind into what would seem to be a less-than-idyllic dream-world. But, that doesn't mean it didn't promise to be a good dream…

For the next half-hour, the girls ate and chatted about the upcoming ball and their dresses. Hermione tuned it out, confident that she wouldn't be required to put in too much to the conversation, as Lavender and Parvati took care of most of that, cheerfully chattering on about the band, the food (more food!) and the amazing décor the immense ballroom was supposed to have.

While the booth was off to the side, from the way Hermione was seated she got a moderately unobstructed view of the street-like walkway outside the restaurant. She was content to people-watch while the five girls' conversations dwindled while everyone seemed to be more focused on their pizza.

She watched the passing scene with moderate interest, shifting her gaze back-and-forth across the crowd, picking out interesting looking people and wondering about their lives, or if they were even real. She was currently looking at a trio of goblins when she caught a flash of green out of the corner of her eye.

What is that? She thought, craning her head to see where the person had gone, but a strategically-placed column effectively blocked her view. Curious, Hermione tried to stretch her neck out to see past the column, ignoring Ginny's strange looks and Luna's oddly reassuring comments that a flibberjet wouldn't stay with one person for this long, but she was still unable to see the person that had caught her eye. She returned to her pizza, ripping into her third slice.

Parvati and Lavender had resumed the conversation about the apparently fascinating complexity of the dresses that were in fashion here, but Hermione had already heard the conversation before from the identical repetition of her dreamlike trance. Suddenly, it struck her. I was people watching yesterday too…but I never saw whoever that was.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione couldn't wait until the lunch was over. The first day, Hermione had excused herself excitedly from the group in order to go exploring her dream world, and she had been forced to repeat the same words and actions yesterday. If I can even call it 'yesterday,' she thought mockingly. I cannot see the outside, and there are no clocks, so I don't really know what time it is.

She continued to muse about the ways this day had been different from the past ones. There had been subtle changes, she was sure. Like the phone! Her consciousness screamed at her. Suddenly, she could no longer remember what had happened, only that the phone had rang and she had answered it.

She'd had enough of this. It was time for answers. Maybe, today would be the day she would finally wake up. "Excuse me, I think I'm going to go walk around a bit and then take my time getting ready," she announced, sliding out of the booth.

"Ok, be ready by six!" Ginny called, Hermione resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, like I even know when that is. "Harry, Ron, and I will be up by then!"

Hermione left, mixing quickly with the crowd and hurrying back along the main walkway, cursing how short she was. She couldn't see over the primarily giraffe-heighted people standing around her. She accidentally bumped into someone on her left, and almost fell over. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, the stranger already gone, but she saw the same flash of green moving in the opposite direction away from her. It was a male—his height and hairstyle was evident of that, and she could tell he had thick dark hair.

She stood there, her nerves momentarily frozen, but by the time she had blinked he was already gone. She tried to cut across the crowds, but the traffic had already caught her in its swirling mess, and she suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic. She shivered, although it was nowhere near cold in the giant dome, and made her way back to her room, trying to fight off the strange sensation of feeling watched.

She stumbled back into her room, having caught one more glimpse of the same dark-haired stranger. He seemed oddly familiar, but then again she wasn't used to recognizing guys by the backs of their heads. If she could see his face, then she was sure she'd be able to recognize him.

She walked stiffly over to the small closet, throwing open the doors and staring at her dress. And somehow my mind conjured this for me? Highly doubtful, she thought with a grimace.

It was a frilly, girly confection of a dress. No, not quite the proper words for it, she reflected, but anything over the plainest white dress would seem girlier than what she was used to wearing. It was a light reddish color mixed with orange, like a burnt sunset. The colors shimmered over the full skirt and the bodice, with glinting crystals set into the top and the joint of the straps. The kind of dress that was too painful to wear while sitting, eating, or dancing.

'Beauty over pain!' Lavender might resolutely protest, but in any other circumstance Hermione would never even wear the dress. She had tried that yesterday, sitting on her bed in her pajamas with her arms crossed, refusing to even go near the closet. Then, her arms began to move all on their own, and before she knew it the dress was on her and her hair was up, low heels on her feet.

Hermione showered, then wrestled with her hair and a blow dryer. The results weren't fantastic, but Hermione was beyond caring. She felt the now familiar sensation of her arms doing the work for her, and found a curling iron buried in a mass of dried, slightly crinkled hair. Her normally inexperienced hands made short work of pinning up the mass of curls, letting a few hang loose while others framed her face or were tucked behind an ear. What would normally have taken Hermione hours seemed to all have been accomplished in the space of a few long minutes, but she found that time in this dreamscape had a way of speeding up or slowing down on its own inclination.

Hermione swallowed, gritting her teeth as she climbed into the dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders and adjusting the slightly full skirt. The back of the dress dipped halfway down her own back, revealing far more skin that what she was used to. Oh well, I just have to grin and bear it. Third times the charm, right?

She studied her reflection in the mirror on the interior of the closet door. She was short, the heels did little to help that. She was somewhere in between thin and round, with her weight well distributed throughout her body. The dress did make her normally pale skin appear to have a golden tinge to it, and Hermione had to admit the color looked good on her. She had only a few seconds more to watch her reflection apprehensively before the triple knock on the door reminded her that she still had a ball to attend.

Her hand nervously clenched the doorknob, and Hermione swung open the door, an imitation of the happily shocked expression from her first night here plastered firmly on her face. Yet, she was still unable to keep her eyes from watering slightly upon seeing Ron and Harry again. She gave them both hugs, Ron lingering for a moment or two longer than she'd have liked before drawing back.

"So, ready to go?" Harry asked, extending an arm to Ginny, who grabbed it and looped her own through happily. Ron extended the same courtesy to Hermione, who accepted it grudgingly. They were going together more as friends, but he felt an obligation for the brunette witch.

The next hour passed in a blur to Hermione, the dinner placed in front of her and whisked away almost as quickly as she was lost in a mesh of sounds, tastes, and sights. Once more she caught another glimpse of the back of the dark-haired man as he left the restaurant, but the half-finished pasta before her left her unable to move, the fork spinning in the noodles.

Before Hermione knew it, the four of them were at the entrance of the ballroom, the big double doors pulled wide and the strains of a waltz already audible from the outside hall. They walked through, finding themselves in a huge opulent ballroom, decked in gold and bronze colors with hints of silver that somehow seemed not to clash, with silk banners covering the ceiling as waltzing women in damasks and velvets finer than her own swept by on the arm of equally impressive-looking gentlemen, none of the faces belonging to people Hermione might have recognized.

With the blink of an eye, Hermione found herself asked to dance by Ron, and accepting as he pulled her onto the dance floor. She had lost sight of Harry and Ginny moments before, and the spinning of the dance only seemed to further her attempts at locating anyone else she might know, as all the faces seemed to blend together while being spun and returned to Ron's arms.

Ron spun her out again, and she saw the back of the same familiar man who had been eluding her all day, dancing with an unknown partner. She made to continue over to him, but Ron's pull on her hand swept her back towards him, her feet following the rhythm of the dance although her mind screamed to get to the bottom of what was happening.

As the waltz concluded, Hermione made an excuse to return to the edge of the ballroom, leaning against a column as she watched the dancers engage in a minuet, the style reminiscent of an eighteenth-century English court dance. Everything was too perfect—from the dancers, not a one out of step, to the intricate designs of the dresses and the odd perfection of the ballroom.

Hermione kept an eye out for the mysterious stranger as her eyes scanned the dancing couples, but she was unable to see him. She had also lost sight of Ron, Ginny, and Harry, but knew with a sinking heart that she wouldn't see them again that night—she had been forced to return to her room alone after the conclusion of the ball the last two nights.

She leaned her back against the column then turned, feeling a familiar pull and a familiar pulse deep in her stomach. There, she saw him, the man who had been eluding her all day.

He walked leisurely towards her, his posture stiff and yet relaxed at the same time, his cold dark eyes unrelenting as the smirk on his mouth widened. He looked so familiar to her, but she couldn't place it. She couldn't even remember his name.

"Who are you?" She asked, confused. He obviously seemed to know her well. "It's Tom Riddle," he responded, slightly amused by her question.

"Oh," was all she could say. Suddenly she remembered his name, remembered his face, although she still couldn't place how exactly she knew him.

"How did I…" she began to ask, but Tom cut her off, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her away from the column and a couple of steps closer to the swirl of dancers. "Don't think too hard about it, or you'll wake up," he told her gently.

"How did you get here?" Hermione asked, lifting her head to meet his eyes with her own. "It's your dream, isn't it?" He responded, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Mocking him seemed to come second nature to her. "That means you haven't figured it out either, right?"

He shot her an annoyed glance. "Dance with me," he commanded, drawing her closer to him as he wrapped his other hand around her waist, the one already holding one of her hands clenching it tighter.

Hermione complied, mulling over his words. What does he mean if I think about it I'll wake up? Isn't that what I want?

"You…and the pensieve," she said, struggling to connect the dots. She was struck with another familiar pain from trying to remember the hidden information, but pushed past it. "You!" She said a bit louder, pulling back slightly although still allowing herself to remain in his hold. "I hate you!" She said with conviction, like repeating a truth she had previously acknowledged, but with no fervor or true hate behind the words.

"Yes, I believe you do," Tom said, releasing her waist for a moment to spin her lightly, her hand coming back to rest on his shoulder. "Why do I hate you?"

Tom shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, although Hermione got the distinct sensation he was mocking her again.

They swayed to the music, the dancing couples now on their left as they danced apart from the brightly lit, gaudy center of the ballroom. The music was slower now, and as Hermione turned again she could see the dark sky through the giant French windows against the wall.

"You hate me, but I also dislike you," Tom continued lightly, as though they weren't having such an emotive discussion. "Why?" Hermione asked, curious.

"You are too predictable, too boring. You never do anything spontaneous. Have you ever let yourself go completely to your emotions, surrendering to your desires, your whims of the moment?"

Hermione frowned. Of course I don't! What a stupid question. I never do anything if I can't be sure of the consequences of my actions.

"You're forgetting you are in a dream," he told her, spinning her again. Hermione's head was starting to feel dizzy, and she could suddenly remember bits and snatches of information about a sleeping potion, and the word 'Gryffindor.'

"You're in a dream," Tom repeated. "So none of this is real." Hermione continued to feel confused. Aren't we real? I suppose so…but this is still a dream. Will I remember none of this in the morning, like I remembered none of my conscious self upon arriving here?

"What's your point?" She huffed. She would have crossed her arms if Tom didn't have one of them trapped in his own. As it was, she was having a hard time breaking the locked connection of their eyes, their feet seeming to follow a prescribed pattern as they danced together to the soft music.

"Do something spontaneous," he told her. "Something impulsive."

At Hermione's raised eyebrow, she was obviously asking, Like what? "Kiss me," Tom commanded again, enjoying the shocked expression on her face as a blush rose to her cheeks.

Hermione let out a half-hearted laugh, hoping he was joking. "Ha, ha, yeah. Right," she said, averting her eyes from his own. She glanced back at him, but his dark eyes were unmoving in their emotion.

"You're serious?" She asked, suddenly wishing there was more distance between them. A corner of Tom's mouth cracked into another smirk. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't."

Wow, now this is awkward, Hermione thought, somewhat wishing they were in the middle of the dance floor and dancing one of the figure dances, if only so she would be able to change partners. It's like he said, this is a dream. Not real. I'm gonna forget this within five minutes after I wake up.

While Hermione was thinking, Tom moved closer, his lips near her left ear, the air from his words tickling the sensitive skin. "Do it," he whispered, goading her on.

"I-I…" she mumbled, blushing again as Tom moved back, studying her nervous expression. He was still close enough that all Hermione had to do was tilt her head upwards, and she would be almost close enough to kiss him. It would certainly be impulsive enough, she thought sarcastically. Aw, what the hell.

The hand resting on his shoulder moved to the back of Tom's neck, lightly brushing at his hair. She turned her head up to the left, bringing his head down with her other hand as she met his lips with her own in a gentle kiss.

From the way Tom's arms moved to possessively grip her waist, he had no intention of making it remain gentle. He pulled her closer to him, one hand holding her back and keeping her close to him while the other moved up one arm to tangle itself in her hair.

Hermione meanwhile was berating herself for ever considering not kissing him as he deepened the kiss, an intensity that seemed to convey not only a sense of hunger, but of need.

They both broke apart at the same time, Tom's forehead almost brushing against hers as he continued to stare deep into her eyes. Hermione tried to take a step back, but Tom was holding her firmly in place.

"Tom, I—" she started to say before another wave of pain hit her. Her eyes blinked wildly as she was hit with an onslaught of information, suddenly remembering every little detail about her life, and the pensieve world she was currently living in.

She shuddered, removing one hand from Tom's shoulder to grip her head as her vision swam. She looked around, suddenly aware that the dancers and the ballroom had all disappeared, only to be replaced by a sea of rich grey smoke.

The colorless fog drowned out everything, leaving only Hermione, Tom, and the column and window, the only remnants from her dream world.

Tom made no motion to help her as she moved away from him, breathing deeply and shuddering as another wave of recognition hit her. The column had disappeared.

"What's happening?" She asked nervously. "You're waking up," Tom told her simply as she met his eyes again. One part of her wanted nothing but to throw herself in his arms, while the other wanted desperately just to wake up so the pain would be over. It was like someone was taking a steel wool brush to her brain, wiping out the dust and grime and leaving her memories refreshed and spotless.

"I…I don't want—" she started, clutching her head with both hands now. She felt one of Tom's hands lightly brush her shoulder, but found her body frozen in place. She couldn't look back, couldn't see anything but the dense, colorless fog.

Just wake up, Hermione, Tom's voice seemed to whisper all around her, but it didn't seem like the words were spoken by him at all.

With a flash, Hermione sat up, nearly falling off the couch in the Gryffindor common room in the process. She gripped a coffee table to pull herself back up, not even registering that she could feel it instead of passing right through it, although her skin had returned to the pale transparency she associated with this world of memories.

What on Earth was that? She asked herself, still shaking from the effects of the powerful dream as she struggled to remember what had happened.

There was a ball, and food, and this strange room, and…she trailed off, fishing for the last threads of the dream as they ran from the fingers of her mind. Oh my gosh, there was a kiss. I kissed Tom.

She blushed again, not knowing whether to feel angry or upset or giddy. Giddy? Not likely, she snorted. The liar said I wouldn't remember it.

She continued to fume, sitting back in the couch as she noticed the sky lightening outside. At least it was a dream. It wasn't real.

But it sure felt real.

A/N: Hope that kiss was enough for you! xD I sure built it up enough, lol. I actually got the idea for this from a dream I had (yes, Riddle did make an appearance—lucky me, eh? xD), and decided to write out Hermione's dream.

Also, to Cashbutterfly and any other usually anonymous reviewers, since you don't receive alerts to know when I put up a new chapter, just to let you know I usually try to update on Fridays. Check then for the latest chapter!

Sorry for the long Author's Notes, but I felt the information was important. Also to any of the people who have my story on alert, I know you're reading, and it'd be great to hear from you! Any ideas or comments you have would be greatly appreciated!

Love, Kako